Five years ago ,VJ Otho was on top of his game, one of the sharpest, most sought-after, and reliably cool VJs in Boystown.

His real name is Corey, or Corky, or Leonard. Susan? I can’t remember.

That’s because from the instant I first met him I called him “Otho” in my head, long before someone straightened out his actual name for me. Which I instantly forgot. People are usually “nice lady with weird glasses”, “guy who talks too much”, “friend of David’s I don’t like”, or “cute guy in motorcross jacket” before they become “Kat”, “Vincent”, “Minnetta”, or “Justin”, with their names permanently fixed to their faces.

Because this particular Boystown VJ is the spitting image of Glenn Shadix, by way of Beetlejuice, and the sort of in-your-face, over-the-top, ridiculously bitter and conniving gay man found mostly in cartoonish fiction, his real name never overcame the “Otho” that he forever will be to me.

Otho was one of the very first people I ever met in Boystown, because he lorded over one of the clubs I liked from a VJ booth on the second floor, watching the crowd below like Laurence Olivier chewing the scenery in Clash of the Egos. Rotund, and sweating even through the dead of February, he’d play some long, drawn-out vaudevillian showtune whenever he’d want to scurry down from his perch, like a spider, to talk to some guy who caught his eye…waiting for just the right moment for him to be alone and thus vulnerable, with his friends getting more drinks, off to the bathroom, or otherwise engaged in a corner (this being one of the most popular bars in Boystown, I’ll just leave it up to your imagination what those guys were doing with other nice looking young guys).

Otho, the spider queen, for some reason took a liking to me years ago, back when I was still with my ex Harvey, and he took delight in one day scurrying down from on high, when Harvey was in the bathroom, to tell me that Harvey had been cheating on me.

Conspiratorially drawing in close, Otho whispered in my ear something about Harvey being in the bar a few nights before, with some other guy, having a good time, then leaving with him at 1:36am. Otho was well-rehearsed to the point of knowing the exact time Harvey left, though he wouldn’t say with whom, because “that would be trouble-making, and I’m not here to make trouble, only to let you know what I saw. I’m like the news this way. Just call me Katie Couric!”

It’s a shame the role of Ursula the Sea Witch was already cast, because Otho could have played that part well, too. As for the Katie Couric comparison, well, Otho’s spot-on with that, I must admit…though I don’t think Couric reports the news as much as she tries to make it, which brings her closer to Otho’s level than Otho’s attempt to raise himself up to hers.

VJ Otho has an excuse for everything he does, including remembering the exact minute Harvey left the bar (“because I always play the “Last Call for Alcohol” song at 1:37 and I saw him leave, hand-in-hand, with that guy one minute before. This is when you were in New York visiting your friend, which I know because Perry told me, and Brenden told him. But, I’m not saying Harvey did anything, only that it totally looked like he was going to do something with that guy, because I bet they went back to your apartment and did it in your own bed. Isn’t that terrible what he did to you?”), because, well, that’s just Otho.

I accept him as part of the gay community the way I accept Miss Pattie the rainbow-haired punk rock lesbian who sits at the corner of Roscoe and Halsted and sells gum and Tic Tacs to raise money for Vital Bridges…or “Looks Like Cher”, our neighborhood Cher impersonator, who tells the best stories…or all the many, many, more every day, Brendens — those flighty, fad-obsessed boys always looking for the new “it” craze and jockeying to be the next Mean Girls leader once whatever guy in charge of the clique now gains too much weight or loses too much hair to be Queen of the Night anymore.

Boystown wouldn’t be the same without the lying, conniving, always-trying-to-break-people-up, obsessive spider that is VJ Otho (though I freely admit it might be better, and would love to see the day when we could all determine that once and for all).

Christmas, also, would not be the same without VJ Otho’s Holiday Jingle Balls Ball, which he hosts annually in his admittedly fabulous top floor apartment. It’s an industry-heavy event and Otho calls in many of the favors he accumulates all year to get tons of the best booze, all the cutest boys, Broadway-quality themed decorations throughout, and even waiters dolled up like elves, reindeer, you name it…with Otho making a grand entrance down his massive spiral staircase, dressed up in an elaborate Christmas costume just like Elton John used to do at his birthdays every year back when anyone still cared about him, too.

Otho may not be the big VJ in town anymore, and his parties might not be QUITE as packed and “must-attend” as they once were, but he sure as heck knows how to throw a festively fabulous fete, with nonstop alliteration and libation till dawn. The ghosts of Oscar Wilde and Quentin Crisp hang heavy in the air, encouraging the spiking of the eggnog, while mistletoe disappears from the door frames and fantastically resprouts itself on the front waistband of the go-go-boys green and red jocks.

I’ve been invited to the party every year, and though Otho the spider queen does give me the creeps, I’ve always gone and had an interesting and enjoyable time, marveling at just how much gay could be crammed into one apartment without Liza Minnelli actually being there, in person. Though “In spirit”, for her, was a given.

Not this year, though!

I think this is so hilarious, it’s actually BETTER than going to the party.

My boyfriend Justin is another guy that Otho’s followed from his perch in the VJ booth, so he’s been a guest for Christmas for the whole time he’s lived in Chicago, too. I actually met Justin in a bar where Otho was VJ-ing, and Otho tried his level best to keep the two of us from talking. He told Justin that I’m crazy and evil, and that I’m working for Sarah Palin to infiltrate the gay community as some sort of plot. Then, when Otho saw I was alone one night, with Justin nowhere in sight, he scurried down to tell me all sorts of lies about Justin being promiscuous and being a naked waiter for parties old guys throw. Otho’s a master of the specifically ridiculous, where the lies he tells are detailed enough for them to seem plausible, because who would go to the trouble of making something so specific up, well ahead of time, so he could sound so sure of what he was saying when he made it seem he just accidentally bumped into you on the way to get himself a fresh CC and diet for the video booth.

I told Otho I didn’t care what Justin did, and if he wanted to waiter naked for old people, more power to him as I bet that’s a lucrative market in Chicago, considering how many old queens there are in Rogers Park, especially. Justin, on his own, before we started dating, told Otho he didn’t think I was crazy or evil, but hoped I really was secretly working for Governor Palin because he thought that was cool and intriguing. At that, Otho gasped, took a long swig of his drink through his tiny little straw, threw the end of his scarf back over his shoulder and huffed his way back up to the VJ booth before Celine Dion’s “It’s All Coming Back to Me” finished on the big screen.

So, Otho’s figured out Justin and I are together, and he doesn’t much like that, but he’s still fine with Justin…and still invited him to his Christmas party…but told Justin, specifically, that I can’t come.

“Why not?”, Justin asked, and Otho told him it’s because he saw me on TV telling people to vote for Bristol Palin on Dancing with the Stars and that I “ruined the show by getting the Tea Party people to kick off Brandy instead of Bristol”.

So, Otho’s mad at me for urging people to vote for Bristol and keep her on the show…and also because by doing this Otho found his way to HillBuzz.org and doesn’t much like that I’m encouraging people to stand up to the Left every day and work hard to take Obama down for 2012.

“He can’t come because he’s a Republican, and I don’t want a Republican in my house,” Otho told Justin, not realizing that Justin is a Republican too, though totally under the radar and still in the closet about it. No one suspects Justin, which is hilarious, because he’s actually to the right of me, and I’m to the right of probably 80% of people who call themselves “conservative”.

Justin and I have only been dating for about a month, so he still doesn’t know what things I’ll find funny or soul-killing. “I know you think your hatemail is funny, but since these are people who actually know you, I don’t know if I should tell you what Otho said or not,” Justin started, with me interrupting him to note how little I cared whatever new lie Otho had spun that night up on his web while sadly proving how long ago his VJ heyday was.

I think it’s funny Otho doesn’t want me at his Christmas party because he saw me on TV talking about a silly dancing show, and that’s how he figured out I’m a gay conservative. It’s just so typical of “the tolerant Left” to be so childish and mean-spirited, even at Christmas.

MEANWHILE, at about the same time Otho was telling Justin I couldn’t come to his Christmas party, a conservative family I know invited me…and Justin…to their Christmas get-together this coming weekend. This is a family straight out of a family values recruitment calendar, where every month the mom, dad, 2.5 kids, and golden retriever would wear matching outfits and do something wholesome and outdoorsy to show how much they loved each other and how well they represented conservatism.

And they are the nicest people to me. I know them from the 2008 campaign, and the mom and dad read HB every day, occasionally giving me insight into what the Cocktail Party is up to here in Chicago because these people want a real conservative to win the nomination in 2012, and that woman will be from Alaska, you betcha.

They, clearly, know I’m gay…because they told me, specifically, how much they want to meet Justin…and they clearly and warmly refer to him as my boyfriend whenever talking about him. It is exactly the same way they would treat Justin if I was straight and it was a Justine we were talking about instead. Since they live way out in Hoffman Estates and they weren’t sure if Justin drives, they also told me if we took the train out that we could just sleep over Friday night in a guest room after the party and leave after breakfast for a train back to the city in the morning.

This “Tale of Two Christmas Parties” is anecdotal, of course, and it’s just two events that happened at relatively the same time, coincidentally, in my life here in Boystown…but I can’t help put draw your attention to a few simple facts I see repeatedly again and again in not just Boystown, but nationally.

‘The tolerant Left” is an oxymoron.

Leftists are the most intolerant people I have ever encountered. They hate anyone who sets a foot outside the gay reservation the Democrat Party placed gays on, as part of the identity-bloc coalition Democrats depend on to maintain power. The prime directive of the unthinking Left is to shun, stone, polarize, and pulverize any gay who dares think for himself and buck the party line. Should a gay man vote Republican, he’s turned into a pariah if the community finds out. Worse, should that guy openly come out as a conservative, and work in the community as a conservative activist, gays like Otho feel it’s their duty to make his life as much as a Hell as possible…starting with uninviting him from parties, ostracizing him, and making him as much of an outcast as possible.

That’s how Democrats roll…that’s “the tolerant Left” in action.

MEANWHILE, conservatives, the people Democrats and the media (redundancy alert!) claim are so evil, so hateful towards gays, so simple-minded and terrible, have never been unkind to me.

I remind you what I’ve said many times on this site: since becoming actively involved in politics and spending every day in the thick of all this, the “worst” a vocal conservative has ever said to me was that he was praying for me to not be gay anymore…and when I thought about his heart, and where he was coming from, even that was not said from a place of malice — instead, it was his way of saying, in an admittedly awkward and strange way to me, that he wished I didn’t have to go through all the social and cultural grief for liking guys because this man thought my life would be easier if I was straight. AND, if I was straight he imagined I could have a wife and kids like he did, which he thinks is the ideal for anyone, so he sees that I don’t have that and was wishing that happiness for me.

I remind all of you, also, that Fred Phelps is a Democrat and that the Westboro Baptist Church is a Democrat organization (and giant supporters of Al Gore), despite the fact Democrats and the media (redundant redundancy alert!) want you to believe otherwise. The only people shouting that they hope gays die from AIDS are Democrats…just as the only people on tape lobbing real, actual anti-gay pejoratives here in Illinois are Democrats like Palatine Committeewoman Sue Walton (who shouted that garbage at Andrew Breitbart, who isn’t even gay, a few months ago).

What the media WANTS you to believe about conservatives isn’t true…and is in fact a projection of what the LEFT really thinks of gays, and how even the Leftist gay community treats a gay conservative.

I got uninvited from a Leftist Christmas party because I am an out and proud (and vocal) conservative and my boyfriend was told he could not come to the party, either, if he brought me.

MEANWHILE, my boyfriend and I were invited, as a gay couple, to a conservative family’s Christmas party with said family so eager and anxious to meet Justin that they’ve gone out of their way to make sure there was no practical way for us to turn down the extremely kind and generous invite.

It’s a tale of two Christmas parties here in Chicago…where conservatives are accepting and loving towards me as a gay man, while the Left is bitter and hateful towards me for being a gay conservative.

You won’t ever hear stories like this reported in the lamestream media because it directly challenges the “Democrats are good and Republicans are evil” narrative those JournoList clowns are so desperate to sell, but I think it’s important I share anecdotes like this to you from Boystown so that you see how hypocritical both the gay community and the Left itself are just about every day of the week.

But most glaringly so atChristmas.

Kevin DuJan is the author of SHUT UP! The Bizarre War that One Public Library Waged Against the First Amendment. He is a gay, Catholic, conservative, Republican who advocates for government transparency, Freedom of Information, Open Meetings, and First Amendment rights. He lives in Chicago with his boyfriend Justin.